


Holding A Knife To The Throat of Your Salvation

by Dylanobrienisbatman



Series: The 100 Season 5 [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Hiatus fic, Honesty, Love Confessions, Post-Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05 Speculation, Soulmates, adoration, clarke helps bellamy shave, honest communication, thrown by the intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanobrienisbatman/pseuds/Dylanobrienisbatman
Summary: Bellamy has a beard now, and Clarke is really into it, in all senses of the word, but he's shaving it off, so Clarke helps. Helping him helps her see things more clearly.





	Holding A Knife To The Throat of Your Salvation

She had missed every single part of Bellamy, down to his very presence, to the way he existed in the world, but she had missed his face the most of all. High cheekbones, strong jaw, freckles dancing across tan skin, eyes dark and warm and full of sadness but so much love. She had dreamed about it, about him, almost constantly for over 2,200 days. So when the ship crashed down, and she found him in the woods, she had been so eternally grateful that he was just THERE, that she barely even had the brain space to think of anything else. Even through the coming weeks, when they made deals with the Eligius miners, when they spent days shifting rubble, when they finally broke the 1,200 (give or take) people out from beneath the earth, she barely even saw anything but him. It was like every time he was even in her line of sight, a soft white light surrounded him and blocked out everything else. She was obviously elated to be with her mom again, with Raven and the rest of the space crew, but Bellamy... Bellamy was something more. He had always been something more. It helped that he was never out of her line of sight, because he never let her out of his own. She could feel his eyes following her everywhere, and it was nice. It made her feel warm, and safe in ways she hadn't in all the time he was gone. She had never really realised how safe he made her feel, until she went without it for so long, and then got it back. 

It took her almost a month of him being back to notice that his beard was something new to love. She barely even cared what he looked like, in the moments following his landing, because his eyes were so warm, and his arms felt like home, and nothing else in the world mattered. But then, after a little time had passed, and she was convinced that he wasn't a figment of her imagination, and that he wasn't going to disappear without a trace into the dark of night. But when she noticed the beard, she truly  _noticed it_. It was dark, and thick, though a little patchy, and when they kissed it scrapped across her cheeks and jaw, left raw patches on her neck and shoulders, and between her thighs, and she liked it. She liked it a lot. It made him look older, it made him look stronger and more mature, and she  _really really liked it_. She found her self gently rubbing her fingertips through it when they laid in bed together, scratching lightly at his jaw bone and pressing kisses into the hair on his cheeks. She was obsessed with it. She had asked Raven about it, once she sort of realised it, and had been told that he had started growing it a couple years after they got up in space, because of her. His grief about her had made him barely capable of getting up in the morning, much less able to shave, so he had stopped. The beard had come, and never left. 

She never told him that she loved it, she just assumed he knew. She would sit behind him, her arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist, scratching her nails mindlessly through it while they talked, strategy or stories or mindless chatter. She just thought he knew. So when she came into their tent in the middle of a bright sunny afternoon, to find the skylight opened, a mirror on his desk with a bowl of soapy water, and a sharpened knife in his hand, she almost cried. He had already scrapped almost a third of the hair from his skin, and was in the middle of rinsing the hairs off the blade when he heard her gasp. He turned, warmth coming from his eyes as it always did when he saw her. 

"What are you doing!?" She exclaimed. He lifted the razor, a little confused. 

"I'm... shaving?" He said, laughing a little. 

"No, no i see that," she flustered, "but  _ **WHY**_?" 

"Well... I.. I mean.." He didn't seem sure he could explain. "I grew it really just because I couldn't bring myself to even be bothered to shave it. Because..." He paused, always so careful with his words, "Because i missed you. I missed you too much to even breathe. I love you, you know that, I always loved you, and it just sort consumed me. That grief. But now you're here, and this beard is a reminder that I didn't always have you. I don't need a reminder, there is no way i'll ever forget that feeling. I don't want to be reminded every time I look in a mirror. So..." He lifted the razor again, asking in a way that she always understood, the look in his eyes. He wanted her to be okay with him moving on, in this one way. 

"I mean... I  _like_ the beard," she said, stepping close to him, brushing her fingertips lightly over the hair left on his cheek, "but... if you need to get rid of it," he pushed his face into her hand, leaning into her touch instinctually, "do what you need to do, my love." She leaned down, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, and pulling his attention to look him in the eye. She brought her voice down to a soft, intentionally raspy whisper first, before she said "but i  _really really like the beard_." He laughed, pressing his lips against hers, unable to make a full kiss through his smile. 

"I'm sorry you like the beard." He whispered back, before slipping back, and grabbing the knife. She made him scoot forward on his chair, sliding in behind him, legs around his waist, armed around his chest, tucking her face into his back as he scrapped the hairs from his face. She sang to him, humming gently to him, the lyrics barely audible. His eyes found hers over his shoulder through the mirror, and she realised a difference. Before space, before their 6 year separation, he always seemed thrown when she was affectionate with him. When she'd touch him or he'd touch her, he would look entirely... thrown by any intimacy she showed him. But now, he fell into it. He would lean into her arms, brush against her when she was close, seek out her hands when they were near each other, find her with his eyes from across the room. He was unfailingly close to her now, and showed his love in every way a person can. She wasn't sure how the change had happened, but she was eternally glad for it. 

"Where did you go?" He had scrapped all the hairs from his cheeks, his chin, and was finishing up his upper lip, pausing at the distant look in her eyes. 

"I was just thinking... How different you are now." He looked puzzled, but she pressed on, "Not bad different, just... It's easier now, between us. Like you're not afraid to be loved anymore. It's nice. I'm glad you found that." He turned just enough, kissing her soft, all warmth and full of  _love_ like she had never felt.

He turned back to the mirror, tipping his chin to get the beard on his neck with the knife. But the mirror was small, and she could see the struggle he was having. She slid out from behind him, and gently took the knife from him, sliding onto his lap. She tipped his chin up, wetting the knife in the bowl, rubbing some of the soap on the beard left on his neck. She scrapped the knife up, against the grain of the hair, slowly, stroke by stroke, until the last bit of hair was gone. She wiped his skin down with a warm rag, and rubbing some oil Monty had given him into his cheeks, and down his neck. When the last of the oil was absorbed into his skin, she just sat, hands on his cheeks, his arms around her back. She slid her hands into his hair, scrapping the base of his skull, a smile soft on both their lips, sitting in the sunlight together. 

"It's you, by the way." He said, soft, just for the two of them. "The reason I'm different now, the reason I'm okay with being loved, is because I'm being loved by you. Finding you again, coming back and you being here, alive..." He sounded strained, like he couldn't barely get the words out without crying, and she peppered his face with kisses, landing on his eyelids, cheekbones, the tip of his nose. "I'm better now, because I knew you being alive was a second chance. The second chance I needed. You're my salvation Clarke Griffin." She leaned down again, kissing him, deep and soulful, pouring love into it. 

"You're my salvation too, Bellamy Blake." 

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://dylanobrienisbatman.tumblr.com/) or [Tumblr](http://lindsey-debnam-carey.tumblr.com/), whichever you prefer! - B


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